


Fractured Ethos

by British_Air_Snails



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Diamond & Pearl & Platinum | Pokemon Diamond Pearl Platinum Versions
Genre: Coming of Age, Gen, Interpol - Freeform, Nuzlocke Challenge, Pokemon Hybrid, Science Experiment, Shady organization, Transformation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2019-07-06 04:54:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15878967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/British_Air_Snails/pseuds/British_Air_Snails
Summary: One-O-Four is not human. He was genetically modified by a man, only known as the Doctor, to be able to turn into a human/Pokemon hybrid. He was always told he was made in the lab, but then something happens that makes him doubt that claim. Memories start to surface. Memories of a different life outside of the lab. With the conviction that he used to be a normal person, he escapes to find the identity and life that was robbed from him.





	1. One-O-Four

**Author's Note:**

> Ethos: The distinguishing character, sentiment, moral nature, or guiding beliefs of a person, group, or institution.

The Doctor’s shoes made a clicking sound that echoed down the long hallway. He lightly grinded his teeth as he walked. He hated coming down here. It was all so… sterile. He supposed that was the lights that lined the ceiling; just doing their job making sure any harmful bacteria was eradicated. Still, though, the whiteness of everything grated on him. He wasn’t supposed to be the one coming down here. That’s what his underlings were for. They would regret not being able to deal with their little subject. That would come later, though.

He glanced at the several doors that filed by him. They were all numbered and filled him with resentment. So many empty rooms. So many failed attempts. He had to remind himself that none of that mattered. Not with his success. His beautiful success. He stopped in front of the door that contained his treasure. The numbers “one, zero, and four” were embedded in the plate at the top.

He took out his master keycard and swiped it, the door giving a resounding clunk as it unlocked. He pulled it open and shut it behind himself after he stepped inside. He grumbled as he stepped into semi-darkness. All but one of the lights in the room had burned our - Or had been broken? - That was helpful. He scanned the area and could make out a form hunkering by the wall behind the bed. He pulled over the single chair that was up against the wall and took a seat.

“One-o-four.” He reached into the inside of his black coat and took out his silver cigarette case as he waited for a reply.

“Yes, Doctor?” The voice came from the form behind the bed. The tone was low and flat, almost monotone. 

He extracted a lighter and lit the cigarette dangling from his lips. “Come out where I can see you. Kind of rude to speak in this fashion, don’t you think?”

“Yes, Doctor.” There was some shuffling and the darkened figure stood and came around the bed, into the light. What stood before him was a nude young man. His black hair was chest length and stringy. He was incredibly skinny, all sinewy arms and legs, and his ribs were protruding almost worryingly so. Hmm, the Doctor noted he should up the subject’s caloric intake. His metabolism was probably working at an extraordinary level after the last adjustment. 

The Doctor stared hard at the subject, who averted his eyes, staring at the floor as he bowed his head. Good, submission was good. He could defy the guards and other scientists to his hearts content, but if he had started showing disobedience to [i]him[/i] they were going to have a problem. One he would be more than happy to correct. 

“So,” the Doctor drawled out the word as he stood, blowing a ring of smoke at the subject. He was a solid six foot in height, but truth be told, the subject had a couple inches on him. That was something that would annoy the Doctor to no end, but luckily the subject had a habit of curling his back and slumping his shoulders, making him appear much smaller and allowing the Doctor to tower over him. That was satisfactory. 

“The underlings tell me you refused to go to training, to the point they had to come get me,” he continued. If he had to, he’d just grab the subject by the hair and drag him to the training room. The guards and the other scientists were not brave enough to do so. The few burn marks he could see on the subject’s body showed the guard had tried his electrified baton to gain obedience, but actually touching him was out of the question. In truth, all of them were scared of the subject. Pathetic. “Do you want to tell me what all the fuss is about?”

The subject fidgeted, rubbing his hands up his arms and wiggling his toes. “He does not want to go to training today.”

The room filled with a barking laugh. The Doctor had been so caught off guard by the answer, it took a moment for him to reign it in. “I–Is that so?” he asked, trying hard to contain a chuckle. “It’s not what you want? How unfortunate.”

The subject flinched when the Doctor raised his hand to the other’s face, but allowed his head to be moved by the fingers that curled around his chin and made him look at the Doctor. His eyes were such a damnable blue. Curse those rotten eyes. The Doctor wanted nothing more than to rip them out of that damn skull, but blind subjects were less than desirable.

“Tell me, One-o-four,” he said lowly, almost in a purr as the side of his mouth curled up in a half-grin. The trail of smoke from his cigarette jostled at the movement. “What is it you want?”

The subject stared back at him with those Arceus forsaken eyes. There was no fear in them, which annoyed the Doctor, but really there was nothing in them. Just a blankness, which had been the intent, so he couldn’t be too irked. “He wants to go outside.”

The Doctor’s brows furrowed as he dropped his hand. “Excuse me?”

“He wants to go outside,” he repeated. “He wants to go outside and feel the sun. Feel the grass under him. Stare at the sky at the clouds and imagine them as other things. The sun would be so warm.” His eyes had drifted off to the side, his voice low and partially whimsical. His gaze seemed far off, almost as if he were… No that was impossible.

The Doctor shook off the sickening feeling that had crawled up his skin. “Now, One-o-four, what makes you want all that? You’ve never been outside. You’re not missing much, trust me.”

“But he has.”

The Doctor’s gut gave a horrendous twist. “No, you haven’t,” he insisted, his teeth pinching on the cigarette filter a little too hard. “Has someone been putting these ridiculous thoughts in your head?”

The subject slowly shook his head. “No.” He took a while to continue. Almost long enough for the Doctor to want to slap him across the face. “They’re feelings,” he said. His face scrunched, trying to find words he didn’t have. “He has felt the sun. He misses it. He wants to lie in its warmth again.”

The Doctor had to ball his hands into fists when they began trembling at his sides. What was this? He took a deep breath. He had to keep it together. He smiled somewhat forcefully. His cigarette fell to the floor and began smoldering, forgotten. “One-o-four, we’ve talked about the difference between dreams and memories before. All you are recounting are dreams.”

The subject shook his head again, more fervently this time. “He knows what dreams are. These are different.”

The Doctor ground his teeth. Keep it together, keep it together. “Just because they are different, doesn’t mean that they are memories. Maybe they’re some form of hallucination, a byproduct of the strain and changes that have happened to your brain as we’ve made progress.”

The subject frowned, now seeming unsure of his claim. Good.

“And your desires shall be met soon,” the Doctor continued, catching the subject’s interest.

“He will?”

The Doctor smiled. Control was his once more. “Certainly. Your training is almost complete and I feel you’ll only need a few more adjustments from here on out. Then we’ll finally be sending you out. You can enjoy all the sunshine you want at that point.”

Something came to the subject’s blank, dead stare. A flash of excitement, perhaps. The corner of his lip also twitched, possibly trying, but failing miserably, at becoming a smile. 

“But that all depends on you,” the Doctor tacked on, making the faulting smile disappear completely.

“Him?” He pointed at himself.

“Yes, you. I can’t possibly send you out to fulfill your duty if I don’t have your complete compliance. The disobedience you showed to my staff earlier is concerning.”

The subject’s eyes fell to the floor again, shame making his shoulders hang further. “He just did not want to train today,” he said softly. 

“I know, One-o-four, I know,” the Doctor said soothingly, as if cooing a chastised child. “Tell you what. I’m going to give you a choice on what we’ll do today.”

The subject looked up at him in surprise. “A choice?” He’d never been given such a chance before and it showed. It was almost cute. Cute enough to crush.

“Yes,” the Doctor said, his mouth curling into a Cheshire grin. “Either you can go to training, or.” Here, his smile turned almost vicious. “We can go to the operating room and do more tests.” He relished the way the subject recoiled from the suggestion. “I’ve thought of a few different ways we can alter your cells for higher efficiency.”

Tremors swept through the subject’s body as he seemed to shrink even smaller. “He wants to go to training.”

The Doctor chuckled in satisfaction. “Of course, whatever you want.” He placed his hands on the subject’s shoulders, ignoring another flinch as he waited for the other to look at him. “But first, I have a special order that has to do with your next training session.”

* * *

The subject followed the Doctor up the stairs, away from the hallway with all the rooms. He often wondered what was inside them. More people like him? He didn’t think so. The only time anyone ever went down there was to deal with him. He could never remember another door even being touched. 

When they came to the upper level there was a small cluster of other scientists waiting for them, as well as a couple guards, Pokéballs and pistols on their belts. The electric sticks hung there, too. The subject rubbed his upper arm, barely flinching as his fingertips brushed the singed skin there. It was already starting to turn pink again, the burned patches flaking off.

“All right,” the Doctor said. “Now that _I_ have corrected certain peoples incompetence.” He narrowed his eyes at the two scientists and the guard that had gone to fetch the subject first.

The scientists averted their eyes and bowed their heads in shame. The guard had the decency to lower his head, too, but he sent a heated glare at the subject. He didn’t acknowledge it. The guards rarely intimidated him anymore. Hardly anyone did. Except for the Doctor, of course. 

“Let us now continue as scheduled, shall we?” the Doctor continued, taking lead and heading further into the building.

The subject fell in step behind him before anyone could usher him forward. The guards came next, making sure he didn’t try something. Then the gaggle of scientists followed after, going over notes on the clipboards they always carried. 

The subject barely registered the building, having been through it so many times throughout the years. Until they got to the lobby. It was nothing extravagant. Just a large, circular room with a desk in the center, a couple potted plants placed in strategic places, and many, many scientists bustling back and forth. All of who didn’t bat an eye at the naked young man that followed their boss dutifully. They all knew who he was, what he was. For that, most intentionally made sure their line of sight never crossed his path. None of that interested him. The room, the people, they were all inconsequential. The only thing that he cared about was what was above him. 

The sky.

He tilted his head back to stare at it. It was so blue with white clouds lazily trailing through it. It was so bright, but a good kind of bright. Unlike the garish lights that occupied his hallway and cell. Soft sunlight lit up the whole room and he just wanted to bask in it. He couldn’t see the sun, but he knew it was out there. All that separated him from it were sheets of glass.

“Hey, pick up the pace,” one of the guards ordered then shoved him. He stumbled, but his gaze remained transfixed on the skylight. 

“Come along, One-o-four,” the Doctor said over his shoulder. “Let’s not dawdle.”

“Yes, Doctor,” he said automatically and only looked forward again when they went through another door. 

Their destination was a large room, even bigger than the lobby, and in the center a battle arena had been marked with white lines. The subject sighed as he waited at one end, the Doctor and scientists making last minute preparations. He looked up at the ceiling. There was no skylight here. Just glaring lights fixed into the roof to illuminate the battlefield. How long would this take? Not that he wanted to spend hours on end in his cell, lying in his bed staring at the ceiling, but he never looked forward to this either. At least it was better than the alternative. He shuddered and his gut was queasy as he imagined lying on the operating table like he had done so many times before. The single light that blinded him, making the Doctor and the scientists that loomed over him dark and distorted.

He snapped back to the present as the Doctor walked over to him in that fast, proud clip of his.

“All right, One-o-four,” he said, standing as straight as he could. He liked pretending he was taller than the subject, he was never quite sure why. “This will be a standard battle. You’ll have your choice of three Pokémon to choose from to fight your opponent with and then you just have to beat them.”

The subject’s brows furrowed. That was rather straightforward. He hadn’t had a battle like that in a while. He made sure to dip his head and look at the Doctor through his hair before speaking. “May he ask why so simple today?” he questioned meekly. 

The Doctor quirked a brow at him. “Would you rather we make it more difficult?”

The subject was quick to shake his head. “No, no, just curious.”

“Well, we want to see if you’ll have an easier time performing after the last adjustment. See if we have to tweak things a little more or not. You know.” He patted the subject’s shoulder. “We would like to make it as painless for you as possible.”

The subject had to maintain control not to change his face from its neutral position. He and the Doctor both knew that he didn’t give one whit to the subject’s well being. “Thank you, Doctor,” he said instead, though he couldn’t keep the flatness out of his voice.

The Doctor didn’t seem to notice, or ignored it. He still had his hand on the subject’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze as he leaned in. “And remember what you’re supposed to do after,” he whispered and the Doctor’s mouth twisted into a sinister grin against his ear. 

“Yes, Doctor,” he replied lowly. 

“Good boy.” The Doctor pulled back, winked at him, and then turned to address everyone else present. “All right, let’s get this show on the road!” he boomed. “Redley!”

One of the guards jumped. It wasn’t the one that had hit the subject with his electric stick and glared at him, but the other one. The subject couldn’t remember that one ever using too much force on him, unlike most of the other guards. “Yes, sir,” the guard said, standing at attention. 

“You’ll be the one facing off with One-o-four today. Get in the ready position. Hurry, hurry.”

The guard was clearly confused, but he was quick to walk to the other end of the arena. 

“Redley, choose your Pokémon,” the Doctor ordered, taking position as referee.

The guard’s fingers ghosted over the Pokéballs at his belt. He took a second to decide before grabbing one, hitting the center button so it swelled to twice its size, then threw it into the arena. The ball popped open, spilling out red light before going back to its owner. The light fluctuated and grew before taking shape into a large Pokémon. It was squat and thick, standing on four legs that had to be broad to uphold its girth. Its snout was round and its mouth was filled with peg shaped teeth, except two of the lower ones were a bit longer. It had several holes along its nostrils, as well as bigger ones along its grey back. As it stood there, sand started pouring out of the holes, pooling on the floor around it. It stared at the subject with beady red eyes and growled lowly.

A Hippowdon. The subject hadn’t fought one of those before. As he stared at it, his brain started filing through information automatically. _Ground-Type, almost seven hundred pounds, short tempered, powerful jaw strength, slow, but bulky. Since most of its rough skin was a sandy brown color, instead of black, it was male._

“Excellent choice,” the Doctor praised. “A mighty fine beast you have there.” He beckoned a scientist over and whispered something in his ear. The man nodded and ran over to a table that had several instruments on it, including a computer that was hooked up to wireless electrodes attached to different places on the subject’s body, recording his vitals. Instead of the computer, the scientist went to a tray, filled with Pokéballs. Soon he was hurrying back to the Doctor with three in hand that he quickly passed over. 

“Here are your choices, One-o-four,” the Doctor said, tossing all three up into the air and letting them release what was inside. 

The first was a small, pale gray, bipedal creature. In contrast to its dark fur, it had bright red feathers protruding from several areas. It had a large crown of them, as well as around its neck. One came from each ear, and two acted as a tail. Its hands were more like deadly claws, sharp and glinting in the light, with similar sprouting out of its feet. 

_Weavile. Both Dark and Ice type, fully evolved, extremely agile, devious and cunning, works better in a pack, but could be a terror all on its own, the claws are its specialty, hacking and slashing prey to pieces, several weaknesses._

The second was larger than the Weavile and looked like a giant plant. Its head was oval and sort of flat with several long, interlacing teeth. Its head was twice the size of its body, which was yellow and had several vine-like tentacles hanging from it that waved and writhed as it floated there. It also had two arms in the shapes of leaves.

 

The last was an ancient creature. It was bipedal, its rough skin a mixture of gray’s and blues. It was smaller than all of them, had stubby arms and tail, and a dome-like head that had four spikes jutting out from the back of its skull. It took in its surroundings with red eyes. 

_Cranidos. A fossil Pokémon, Rock type, unevolved, main form of attack was the use of its thick skull for head butting, slow, though not as slow as Hippowdon, frail, but had greater attack power than any of the Pokémon present._

“I’ll give you five seconds to make your choice, One-o-four,” the Doctor said with a grin. “And then we’ll begin.”

The subject opted out of the Cranidos immediately. It was a horrible choice. Not only was it weak to Ground, but it was unevolved and wouldn’t stand up to the Hippowdon for more than a few seconds. Weavile and Carnivine were both much better options. Both were strong against Ground types, but who would be better situated against a Hippowdon? Carnivine’s Ability would at least make some of the Hippowdon’s moves useless, but Weavile had more maneuverability.

“Begin!”

The subject ran at the Pokémon the moment the word was out of the Doctor’s mouth. Hopefully he’d made the right choice.

“Quake, you know how to start it!” Redley shouted. 

The Hippowdon bellowed as air flowed through its holes, the sand now an intense spray, filling the room. The subject ignored it, keeping his eye on the sideline Pokémon as he sprinted towards them. They were uneasy at his approach, but distracted by the brewing sandstorm. He ran past and yanked at the Weavile’s fur, making it screech and swipe at him.

He squared off with the Hippowdon. He clenched his jaw as that familiar wave of blistering heat came over him. His vision blurred, the marrow in his bones boiling before going ice cold. His pores opened, pale gray fur sprouting all over his body. A crown of red feathers unfurled along his scalp. His fingers ached before the skin split open. The bones of his digits lengthened and thickened into razor sharp claws. His toes followed suit and his knees buckled, forcing him down on one. After a moment he rose to his clawed feet, baring new fangs. 

The scientists and guards stood in amazement, even though they had witnessed the process numerous times. What stood before them was neither human nor Pokémon, but a perfect fusion of the two. A hybrid.

“Excellent!” the Doctor shouted, shielding his eyes from the sand. “Still a little rough, but better. Soon the transformation will be seamless. Now, let’s see what you can do!”

The subject roared as he rushed at the Hippowdon, but now his new muscles pumped harder, faster, making him almost a blur.

Redley shook out of his awe. “Quake, make him regret trying to get in close!”

The Hippowdon waited until the subject leapt at him, before opening his mighty jaws and trying to snap the hybrid between them. Weavile’s speed was why the subject had chosen it. He was able to bounce off the Pokémon’s lip before the mouth could close. He flipped up onto the Hippowdon’s head and raked that red eye with his sharp claws. 

Quake bellowed and tossed his head, catching the subject before he could jump off and making him roll down the bumpy back and down his side. He slipped on the sand, but was able to get his feet under him and leap away before a raised foot could stomp on him. He slipped again just as he was picking up a good amount of speed to try and get around the behemoth. The sand really had to go. 

He focused on that ice in his veins and forced it to the surface. A cloud of snow came from his fur and shot to the ceiling. It billowed and swirled into thick clouds and then started shooting out small hunks of ice. The sand had turned into hail.

“Someone get me an umbrella!” the Doctor shouted, covering his head with his arms. “I hate weather battles.”

The subject, on the other hand, was quite pleased. The hail didn’t bother him in the least, sticking to his fur for a split second before falling to the floor harmlessly. The Hippowdon, however, was enraged. He kept tossing his head, shaking his body, but the bits of ice were relentless.

“Quake!” Redley shouted. “Ignore it and go for an Earthquake!”

The subject’s feathered ears folded back and he instantly began running away from the Hippowdon as it reared up and slammed the arena as hard as it could. The scientists all scrambled to keep their equipment upright as fissures appeared in the ground and snaked towards the hybrid. The subject leapt at the last second, missing being sucked into the ground, and jumping into the air as he bounced off a piece of raised flooring.

“Rockslide, now!”

The subject gasped as the Hippowdon’s powerful tore the floor asunder and kicked up chunks of ground at him. He was in midair and had nowhere else to go. Ice was weak to Rock.

The rocks connected and the world phased into nothing as his senses knew nothing but pain. They snapped back just as he hit the ground and he was crushed and pummeled by the rubble. His temples pulsed. His lungs were barely able to inflate. He tasted blood.

“Be careful with him!” He distantly heard one of the scientists yell. It was hard to hear anything over the ringing in his ears. “Don’t you know how valuable he is!?”

“Hush now,” the Doctor’s voice said, piercing through the haze in the subject’s head.

There was a large piece of rock on the subject’s chest, another pinning down his right arm, and his legs were completely covered. He was compelled to turn his head towards the Doctor, even when it made everything throb. His eyes took a minute to focus, but there was the Doctor, still standing on the sidelines. The hail had stopped, as if he were the calm in the eye of the storm.

“We are here to test One-o-four’s abilities,” he continued when he had the subject’s attention. “Going easy on him will not do, so Redley did the right thing. If he can’t take one little attack then we have all failed, isn’t that right?” He looked around at his staff, who all nodded obediently. He turned back to the subject. “Are you done, One-o-four? Shall we call it off?”

Maybe the others didn’t hear it, but there was a threat in that question. It was evident in the piercing green eyes that were fixed on him. If he gave up now, there would be something much worse waiting for him. 

The subject let out a warrior-like scream as dark energy collected around his left claws and he slashed at the rock on his chest. It took two hits to crumble, one hit to get the other off his arm. Dirt flew as he kicked against the ground, flipping over into a crouched position.

“That’s my boy!” the Doctor yelled as the rest of the scientists cheered.

Redley didn’t look too happy, though. “Hurry, before he can get away, use Take Down!”

The ground shook as there was now a stampeding Hippowdon coming at him. The chunks of ground were going to feel like pebbles compared to getting hit by that. Luckily, the more weight one carried, the more momentum they had, and the more pain it could inflict on the user.

He summoned the ice inside him. Instead of through his skin, he coaxed it up his throat, opening his mouth and releasing it into an Ice Beam attack. He wasn’t aiming at the Hippowdon, though. The ice hit the ground right before the beefy Ground type, and his legs came out from under him. He went sliding down the frozen path the subject created, unable to stop, or slow himself down, and went crashing straight into a wall.

“Quake!” Redley shouted. “Get up!”

The Hippowdon groaned as he tried to comply. Too bad the subject was already stalking over. Before the Pokémon could turn his head, he was struck with another Ice Beam. The subject put all he had into it. Ice crept along the Hippowden’s body, inch by inch. When the subject finally had to stop, panting hard, the Ground type was completely encased in ice. 

“Well, it looks like One-o-four is the winner,” the Doctor said as the scientists and the other guards all whooped and hollered. Redley just sighed.

The subject was light headed, but was able to shake it off in time to see the Doctor fix him with an imploring look. His words from earlier echoed in the subject’s ears.

_“And remember what you’re supposed to do after.”_

The subject turned from the cheers, back to the Hippowdon. He walked towards it, then trotted, then ran.

“Hey, what is he doing?” he heard Redley ask. The answer would come in a moment.

He held out his claws to the sides, that dark energy collecting again. He shouted as he leapt, flying above it, and then he slashed at the air repeatedly. Wave upon wave of darkness sliced into the helpless Hippowdon, the ground rippling with the force of the attacks. He landed, his arms aching, and no one made a sound. There was a second of stillness, then an eerie groan filled the air as the Hippowdon collapsed into several pieces, perfectly preserved in the ice, but clearly no longer alive. 

Another second of silence and then–

“Quake?” Redley said it softly, as if he thought he was dreaming, but reality shortly followed. “ _Quake_!!!”

The subject turned to see Redley had yanked out his gun and was aiming it at him, fury etched into his face. 

“You bastard! What the fuck have you done!? You fucking monster!” He was unable to take a shot as the other guard grabbed his arms and yanked them behind his back. “What are you doing!? He killed my fucking Hippowdon!” He only stilled as the Doctor walked up and stood before him.

“Yes, he did, poor thing,” the Doctor cooed in mock sympathy. “What a tragic end, but you really have no one but yourself to blame. He died by your own deeds. Your own _arrogance_.”

Redley stared at him, wide eyed. “S-Sir, what are you talking about?” he stuttered, face pale.

The Doctor leaned in, a dangerous glint in his eye. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.” He turned to the others and threw open his arms. “Ladies and gentlemen! What you see here before you is a man who has betrayed _everything_ we have worked for!” Boos came from the other scientists as Redley looked around like a frightened Buneary. 

“What? N–No, no! I haven’t betrayed anything!” The Doctor’s knuckles swung into his jaw, snapping his head to the side. 

“There will be no more of those lies, thank you,” he spat before addressing the others again. “This man is guilty of stealing our work, our data, our _years_ of research, and selling them to one of my worst enemies over in Unova! None other than Ghetsis Harmonia!”

Redley started to thrash against the other guard’s hold. “No! You don’t understand, sir! He made me! I didn’t want to do it! He threatened me!”

The Doctor was not moved, simply giving Redley a bored look. “I don’t see what he could have threatened you with that would be worse than what _I_ would do to you.”

Redley was nearly in tears now. “Sir, please.”

The Doctor sighed as he plucked at his sleeve. “I will grant you one small generosity. I’ll make it quick. One-o-four.” 

The Doctor stepped to the side and One-o-four rushed at Redley in a blur. “Sir, please do–”

The claws ripped through his throat like scissors through paper. Redley managed out a gurgle before red flooded down his front. The other guard released his hold and Redley fell heavily to the floor. Wet gasps escaped him, blood bubbles frothing at the corners of his mouth as his hands weakly went to his gashed throat. There was such fear in his eyes, the subject couldn’t look away, and then the light drained out of them. Redley’s body relaxed all at once and he went still in his own pool of blood. 

The silence was thick as all eyes were on Redley’s body. It was only broken when the Doctor clapped his hands. 

“Let this be a lesson to all of you,” he said, his voice dark and vicious. “I will not tolerate _anyone_ trying to make a fool of me. If I find out any of you have even thought of spilling my secrets, well, I’ll definitely be spilling something of yours.”

More than one person gulped.

The Doctor’s hard look stayed for another second before he broke out into a smile. “Now, let’s put this ugliness behind us and relish in our victory, shall we?” He turned to the subject and patted his furry shoulder. “Great work, One-o-four, you did an excellent job. Now eject the DNA.”

The subject nodded and closed his eyes. The fur and feathers receded and he grunted as the claws retracted, returning to regular bone, and his fingers and toes reformed. When he opened his eyes again, he was back to normal, or as normal as he could be. A short, portly scientist came up to him with a petri dish and held it up to him as another scientist was busy removing his electrodes. He sucked on air, moving his throat, pooling saliva in his mouth as something foreign came up. He spat a dark wad of some kind of goo into the dish. It was all that remained of the Weavile in him and now that power was gone.

“Good boy,” the Doctor praised before turning to the remaining guard. “See to it he gets back to his cell safely.”

The guard nodded. “Yes, sir.”

The Doctor turned to one of the female scientists. “You, go with them and give him the once over. See to it he didn’t sustain any internal damage from that Rock Slide.”

“Of course, sir.”

The Doctor finished by turning back to the subject, wiping some blood from his temple coming from a small cut. Then he curled his fingers around the subject’s chin, grinning. “Good work today. You are my pride and joy. Soon, you will be perfect and then nothing will stop us.”

The subject was unsure how to react. He rarely got such praise, but there was something else, something in the Doctor’s eyes that didn’t match his smile. Was it fear? Not a fear like Redley’s, but something akin to it. Knowing better than to voice it, he just nodded when his chin was released. “Thank you, Doctor,” was all he said. 

“Now take him back to his cell,” the Doctor ordered. “Oh, and make sure he gets double his usual amount of nutrition cubes. Growing boys need all the food they can get.” He winked before turning away and the guard gave a push to the subject’s shoulder. 

“All right, you heard him, let’s get moving.”

The three had to walk past Redley on their way out of the room. The scientist averted her eyes, the subject felt as if those lifeless eyes were staring at him, and the guard just scoffed. 

“Looks like they’re going to have to assign me a new partner.”

That feeling that something was off wouldn’t leave the subject. His hearing ability had been fine tuned over the last few adjustments, and it was greater than he thought any of the scientists even realized. So as he walked towards the door it was easy for him to block out all the chatter and focus on the Doctor and the tall, hooked nosed scientist he was now talking to.

“Yes, I’m sure,” the Doctor hissed, though the subject had missed what he had been saying before.

“Th–This is terrible,” the scientist stuttered. “What are we to do if _more_ starts coming back to him?”

“We won’t let that happen.” The Doctor was practically growling now. “When we go in for his next surgery, we’ll have to do another memory wipe.”

A jolt passed through the subject’s body, making him hesitate to the point the guard shoved him forward. He continued out of the room, but now he could hear his pulse in his ears. A memory wipe. So the vague thoughts he had been having _were_ memories. His suspicions were correct. Fear, which he normally only had when the Doctor was around, pumped through his veins as a realization came to him. The Doctor was going to take them all away. No matter how small and confusing the memories were, they were going to be stripped from him and he would be left empty and obedient as he’d always been. No, he couldn’t let them, but what could he do to stop them?

The guard and the scientist did not seem to pick up on the panic that was coursing through the subject. In fact, their ward was the least of the guard’s concerns. He was much more interested in the scientist.

“Hey, Jessica, did you see my quick reflexes when nabbing Redley’s arms? Pretty slick, right? I probably saved all our hard work by making sure he didn’t shoot our little lab Rattata.”

The subject could hear the sigh come through Jessica’s nose. “I’m supposed to be impressed by you doing your job? Besides, it would take much more than a few bullets to kill One-o-four. We made sure of that.”

“Yeah, but because of me you didn’t have to waste any resources patching him up, right?”

“What? You want a biscuit for being a good boy, Tony?”

The subject tuned them out as they approached the lobby. There was a new noise, far off, but had caught his attention. It was soft, relaxed, and kept repeating itself. All the hairs on his body rose. The chirp of a Starly. The little birds were always getting into the building, hiding amongst the ceiling beams, out of reach. Now he could hear one twittering ahead of him, in the lobby.

He made sure to keep his body still, just continued walking normally, but as they entered the large room his eyes scanned the area almost frantically. The light coming in from the skylight was now warmer, filling the room with different shades of oranges as the sun was beginning to set. He ignored it, though. Where was the chirping coming from? His eyes fixed on one of the potted plants, across from the desk. A little Starly was pecking at the berries that grew between the bush’s leaves. 

“Come on, you liked that diner,” Tony was saying.

“Just about as much as I liked the Bidoof droppings I found in my soup,” Jessica retorted. “I’m not going there again. You’re going to have to try harder.”

“On the shit wage I get?” Tony he retorted, grinning at the snort he got from the receptionist at the desk they approached.

The Starly didn’t seem bothered by them. It hopped around the rim of the pot, indulging in a fresh cluster of berries. A bead of sweat trailed down the subject’s temple.

“There’s that cute little café a couple blocks away. I’d settle for a coffee.”

“Nuh-uh, I don’t go to a place that doesn’t call their cup sizes small, medium, and large.”

Jessica groaned. “Tony, you’re impossible.”

“All I’m saying is that I don’t like being told I’m wrong when I order a large coff – what the fuck? Hey!”

His shouts came too late. The subject was in mid-dive for the plant. Startled, the Starly flapped its wings, but his fingers were around it before its feet left its perch. There was a panicked squawk and fragile bones snapped under his frenzied grip. The change was surging through him before the guard could shout again. It usually took a minute, but the subject pushed through the pain, accelerating the transformation to mere seconds. 

Brown and white feathers sprang from his skin, his back split open, blood spraying as large wings ripped out. He leapt for Tony – who was reaching for his electric stick – as the skin of his feet hardened into orange scales. Talons unsheathed just as he slammed into Tony’s chest, feet first. There were screams all around as the subject landed on top of the guard, ribs crunching. He dug his talons into the soft flesh before kicking back, tearing him from sternum to gut. Blood flowed, but he didn’t have the time to make sure Tony was dead. He unfurled his new wings, flinging Jessica hard into the desk, and launched off Tony’s body.

He sailed upwards, eyes intent on the slice of sky above him. His feathered arms covered his face as he crashed into the skylight. Shards of glass fell around him, but he ignored the stings as they cut into his body. He lost his breath for a second as, for the first time in the life that he knew, he was enveloped in the open sky. Buildings of all shapes and sizes spanned beneath him, there was grass, mountains, a whole landscape filling his vision and it was beautiful. And sky. So much sky.

He couldn’t be amazed by it for too long. He had to fly, had to get away before they came for him. With no idea where to go, he focused on the setting sun he had yearned for, for so long. His wings beat and then he was sailing through the sky that was filled with so many pinks and oranges. All the colors just for him.

The colors of freedom.


	2. An Unusual Stray

Lake Verity was as still as glass and glittered in the early morning light. A fine snow covered the surrounding trees and ground, but that didn’t stop Barry from lying back in it, lacing his fingers behind his head. He sighed contentedly, his breath turning into a plume in the chilly air. This was his favorite place to come to when he wanted to relax or be alone. In the summer, Lake Verity was close and easy for a hot day dip, but even in winter he loved indulging in the serenity of it. The sky was a light blue, a few clouds lazily drifting by, but not enough to block the sun. It was a perfect day for just lying back and not giving a care in the world.

Barry sputtered and flailed his limbs as cold snow pelted his face. He sat up, wiping it from his eyes, as a chattering laughter reached his ears. A couple feet from him was a little ape with orange and cream fur. It was rolling on its back, pointing and laughing at him.

“Har, har, very funny, Champ,” he muttered. “You’re the funniest Chimchar around.” The little guy wasn’t going to stop anytime soon, so he scooped up a handful of snow and tossed it at him.

Champ screeched and rolled away before getting to his paws and shaking out his fur. Then he looked back at Barry, stuck out his tongue, and slapped his ass before running off, doing summersaults in the snow.

Barry just sighed and rolled his eyes. “Of course I’d pick the craziest starter.” A little smile couldn’t help but turn his mouth. Champ was his starter Pokémon. He was finally a trainer and would be starting his journey by the end of the week. It was all like a dream. He had been waiting for it for so long. Even though Champ was a mischievous little turd, and they had only been together a couple of days, Barry was very happy with his pick and couldn’t imagine having any other starter. He lay back in the snow coated grass, the smile still in place. “Yep, things are going to be awesome.”

As he relaxed, almost dozing off a couple of times, Champ continued playing. He’d fling snow in the lake or at the closest tree. A couple of times he threw it skyward and let it fall back on himself. Then he found a stick. He made markings in the snow with it, bat at a couple of rocks and then started testing how far he could throw it. 

Barry raised a brow and craned his neck when he heard a lot of clatter from behind him. Apparently the little Chimchar had thrown it all the way into the woods that surrounded the lake. The ape was quick to go after it.

“Hey, don’t go too far, Champ! I don’t want you getting yourself into any trouble!” Barry called after him. He only heard some hooting in reply as he settled back. He really hoped whatever Pokémon he caught in the future would be a little more subdued.

His heart jumped in his throat when panicked screeching came from the trees. He flipped onto his knees, scanning the forest for any sign of the Chimchar. “Champ? Champ!” He was just about to barrel into the woods when the orange primate came racing out and headed towards him. “Champ, what’s wrong?” Champ leapt into his arms, clinging to his chest so hard, it was like he was trying to merge into Barry.

When he asked again what was wrong, Champ just pointed to where he had come from, panting and whimpering. Common sense told Barry to hightail it out of there. Curiosity beckoned him forward. “All right, Bud, we’re going to go check it out. I need you to be my backup, okay?” 

Champ’s reply was to bury his face in Barry’s jacket. 

“What a brave, battle-bred Pokémon you are,” he tsked. He rose to his feet, arms protectively around his starter, and entered the woods. He went slow, looking for anything out of the ordinary, and tried not to step on any twigs. He knew he was getting close to whatever it was by the frequency of Champ’s fearful tremors. 

When he came around a tree he stopped cold. It took a second for his brain to process what he was seeing. “What the fuck?” he whispered.

It was a guy. A butt ass naked guy, lying on the ground on his side, amidst the foliage and snow, passed out. Then Barry focused on the blood. The guy was streaked in it from his face to his feet. It was dried, but it looked like someone had put him through the ringer. Was he even still alive?

“H–Hey, are you okay?” he called out. Nothing. If the guy was alive, he really needed some help. “My name is Barry,” he said as he took a couple, careful steps closer. “I’m gonna see what I can do to help, okay?” Another step and he just about screamed when Champ scrambled up his chest and jumped off his shoulder. “Champ, what the hell are you doing?” he hissed, turning to see the ape cowering under a bush. “What is wrong with you?”

Champ just chattered his teeth, trembling and shaking his head.

“Hey, this guy is in serious need of help. I’m not going to just leave him here.” When it was obvious Champ had no intention of getting closer, Barry threw up his hands and turned his attention back to the hurt man, who still hadn’t moved. If Barry squinted, he was sure he could see the guy’s chest moving.

He had taken a couple more steps when he felt eyes on him. It also came to his attention the forest wasn’t exactly quiet. Slowly, he looked up and his breath caught in his throat. In the branches of the trees was a flock of Starly. He had no idea how many there were, maybe two or three dozen? He had never seen so many in one area, and they were all puffed up and chirping in aggravation. 

“Whoa,” he breathed and swallowed hard. “You guys just stay up there. Don’t worry about little ol’ me.” He gingerly tip-toed the rest of the way, noticing the flock getting more and more agitated. 

He kneeled beside the naked man and cautiously put a hand on his shoulder. With no clothes on, lying in the snow, he was surprisingly warm. Barry gave a little shake. No response. “Hey, hey, Buddy, come on, open your eyes.” He put his finger under the guy’s nose, like he had seen in movies, and felt a shallow puff of air. He let out a sigh of relief. The guy was alive. 

“Come on, please wake up. I don’t know if I can carry you out of here.” Even though the guy was a skinny as a skeleton, he had doubts of his own strength. He wiped the black hair away from the man’s face, and forced open an eyelid. “Hello? You in there?” He let it close and sighed. “Shit, maybe I should run to town and get help. I dunno – Ow! What the hell?” He rubbed his head and as a Starly arced back up into the air, having dive-bombed him. His eyes widened as this riled up the rest of the flock and, with a deafening amount of frenzied chirps, they all descended. 

Barry threw himself on top of the unconscious man, shielding him from the onslaught of little talons and beaks that tore at his jacket and hair. He screamed, trying to protect his head and the man at the same time, not knowing what to do in the chaos.

“Champ! Help me!” he yelled. Whether his voice was swallowed by the chorus of birds, or Champ was unwilling to get involved, he didn’t know. It was clear he was on his own. 

Or so he thought.

He cried out as he was shoved hard from below, flinging him up and onto the ground. He looked up, his jaw going slack, as the unconscious man was up on his feet. The flock had backed off in the exchange, but now they were coming in for another attack. What Barry saw next was so extraordinary and terrifying, he was unsure if he was dreaming or not.

Feathers, the same colors as the birds attacking them, grew from the man’s skin. Barry shouted in alarm as fully formed wings tore out from his back, spraying him in hot droplets of blood. Before his shock even had a chance to ebb, the man sprang into the air with bird-like feet, equipped with his own talons. He flew right into the cloud of Starly. There were explosions of feathers, and squawks filled the air as the flock was pummeled with arms and large wings. 

Within seconds, the flock was retreating through the trees and to the sky. Some lay scattered along the ground, hopefully just knocked out. Barry jumped as the man landed heavily in front of him. His heart was racing, body trembling, as they stared at each other. The man’s eyes were an intense, electric blue, like they could zap Barry at any moment. He flinched when the man groaned and, right before his eyes, he saw the hundreds of feathers get sucked back into his skin, until his pink, pale flesh was smooth once again. He ground his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut, as the wings cracked and crunched, withdrawing back into his body.

Barry’s breathing was coming so quick, he couldn’t get enough air into his lungs, and was lightheaded. When it was over, the man was completely normal again, and he was back to looking down at Barry. His face was hard, as if ready for another fight, but as the seconds ticked by, his features softened. His shoulders slumped, and his balled up fists relaxed. With a soft groan, his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he collapsed at Barry’s feet.

He scrambled back about a foot, staring at the back to unconscious man. His brain could barely process what he had just witnessed. It was only able to formulate three words.

“What. The. _Fuck_?”

* * *

Twinleaf Town was one of the smallest towns in Sinnoh. It had been Barry’s home since he was a kid and he loved it. But the thing about small towns was that word traveled fast, no matter what. That was why he took the utmost care not to be seen, sneaking through the forest surrounding the town. 

He grunted, heaving the man a couple more steps. He had the guy’s arm around his neck and had looped his other arm around the thin waist, supporting him as they walked. “Come on, Dude, you’ve got to help me out a little,” he whispered. Even though the guy was as light as a feather – no pun intended – it had been a long trek from Lake Verity.

The man was semi-conscious, his eyes half-lidded and he was putting one foot in front of the other the best he could. At Barry’s insistence, he moved his feet a little faster, trying to carry more of his own weight. “He is sorry. So tired,” he murmured. 

Barry glanced at him out of the corner of his eye worriedly. “Are you sure you don’t want me to call an ambulance or something? You need a doctor.” The man tensed in his grip and he shook his head fervently.

“No, no doctors. Very bad idea. He just needs food. He will heal on his own.”

“Well, I guess if I could turn into a giant bird-man I wouldn’t want to go to a hospital either,” he muttered. He had to clutch the man harder to prevent him from falling when he tripped on a rock. “Hold on, we’re almost to my house. Just a little further,” he said. “Thank Arceus my mom is out of town.”

It took them some time, but eventually they made it to their destination. Luckily, the forest stood right along his back door. He made the man hold onto one of the trees and snuck to the door. His hand was shaking as he pulled out his keys, making them jingle. It took a second to finally get the key in the lock, but he got the door opened.

He sprinted back to the trees, getting the man’s arm back around his neck. “All right, come on.” They hobbled to the house and clambered on inside. The backdoor opened to the kitchen. Barry kicked the door closed behind him and they made their way across the linoleum then down the hall under the stairs. They entered the downstairs bathroom, the man flinching when Barry turned on the light.

“Over here.” Barry led him to the toilet and had him sit down. “There we go. Whoa, no, right here.” He had to catch the man from falling to the side, and righted him, leaning him back against the back of the toilet, resting the back of his head against the wall. “Okay, is that better?”

The man nodded. “Much.” He looked at Barry with weary eyes. “Thank you for your help.”

Barry smiled. “No problem. So, I can’t take you to the hospital. What can I do to help you?”

“Food and rest,” he replied. “Food first. His body needs energy. He has depleted almost all of it.”

“Food, right, are you going to be okay if I leave you here?” Barry asked. “Am I going to find you on the floor when I come back?”

All of the man’s strength was being used to keep his eyes open. “He shall try to stay upright.”

Barry took the man’s hand and put it on the counter with the sink beside him. “Well, just don’t crack your skull open while I’m gone. Hold onto this.” After making sure the man had a hold, and didn’t seem to be toppling over within the next five seconds, he left the bathroom and went back to the kitchen.

He opened the fridge and groaned when he saw how empty it was. He was supposed to go to the grocery store yesterday with the money his mom left, but decided to stay home and play videogames instead. “Damn it, I’ve got to be able to make something here.” He dug around and found some lunchmeat that was still good, a jar of pickles, and some mayonnaise. “Please tell me I have bread.”

He checked the breadbox and sighed in relief when he saw there was at least one good slice and an end piece left. “I don’t think he’s going to be picky.” As he got everything arranged and started making the poor excuse for a sandwich, he spied the money his mom had left him. It was in a clip, attached to a magnet on the fridge. He stared at it for a minute before sighing and grabbing the cordless phone. He needed to eat too.

He punched in a number that was seared into his brain and listened to it ring as he slathered mayo on the two pieces of bread.

“Antoine’s Pizzeria. Our ovens are hotter than a Ponyta’s mane. How can I help you?” Came the rehearsed words on the other end of the line.

“Hey, Henry, it’s me,” Barry said, trying to wrangle a pickle slice out of the jar.

“Barry! Hey, how’s it going? Let me guess, Mom out of town again?”

“Hey, I can eat pizza when she’s here,” he replied defensively.

“Uh huh, but let me guess, you’re going to get the Snorlax Special instead of the Budew Delight, aren’t you?”

Barry’s cheeks reddened. “She’s at a work conference in Floaroma Town, if you must know,” he grumbled. “Some new kind of flower was discovered or something.”

“So the Snorlax Special then?” Henry asked, his grin almost audible.

“Yeah, but make it an extra large, I have company over and, um, I feel like they have a huge appetite.”

“Ooooo having a lady friend over while Mommy is away, huh?”

Barry made a face as he slapped the lunchmeat on the bread. “It’s a dude.”

“Hey, I don’t judge.”

Barry pulled the phone away and stared at it for a second before putting it back on his ear. “Henry, ew, no.”

The pizza man just laughed. “You’re young, experiment. Anyways, so an extra large Snorlax Special. Gotcha. That’ll be at your place in about thirty minutes, okay?”

“Sounds good, I’ll have the money ready.” He hung up the phone and put the completed sandwich on a plate and headed back to the bathroom. He found the man still sitting on the toilet, but he had slumped over and had his head resting on the counter, eyes closed.

“Hey, wake up,” Barry said softly, shaking his shoulder. 

The man jolted awake, eyes wide, unsure of where he was, but then he relaxed when he saw Barry. “He must have dozed.”

“Yes, he did,” Barry said, sitting on the rim of the bathtub and offering the plate. “Here.”

The man furrowed his brows, took it, and scrutinized what was on it. “What is it?”

Barry balked at him. “A sandwich. Have you never seen a sandwich before?” He was not expecting the man to shake his head.

“No, he has only ever eaten nutrition cubes.”

“I have no idea what that is, but it sounds terrible. This might be just as bland, but it’ll tide you over till the main course gets here.” He gestured from the sandwich to the man. “Eat.”

The man lifted the sandwich, eyed it curiously, and then took a tentative bite. He chewed it a moment, slowly, analyzing it, and then his whole face lit up. “This is much better than a nutrition cube,” he said with his mouth full. He then proceeded to shove more than half of it in.

“Whoa, chew, Dude, chew.” Barry then chuckled. “I’m glad you like it, though. Pickings were scarce.”

The man tried to say something, but there was too much sandwich and it just came out a garbled mess. He gave up on his words and devoured the rest of the small meal in seconds.

Barry took the plate as the man sat back, hands on his belly. With just that amount of food, he already looked ten times better. Color had somewhat come back to his skin, his eyes were now fully open and alert, and he didn’t appear like he was going to collapse any moment. 

“That’s the best meal he’s ever had,” the man murmured contentedly.

Barry just shook his head in wonder. “I have so many questions for you, Dude, you have no idea.” He stood and motioned for the man to do the same. “But first, you need a shower. I can’t have you getting blood flakes all over the house, my mom would flip.” He jabbed his thumb at the shower. “Hop right in here. Shampoo is there, body wash here.” He pointed at the rack above the toilet. “Towels up there. You’re good to go.” He was just about to leave when the man’s voice stopped him.

“Wait.” He was on his feet, looking at the shower with knitted brows. “How do you operate it?”

Barry crossed his arms. “You’re telling me you’ve never had a sandwich before _and_ you’ve never taken a shower?”

The man was oblivious to the skepticism as he pulled at the shower curtain, testing how it moved. “The washing units he was put in came on automatically. Or, if they were broken, they would just spray him with a hose.”

“They.” Barry wanted to ask so badly who “They” were, but he refrained. Instead, he pointed at the knobs. “That’s your hot and cold, you need to toggle them both in order to get the temperature you like. Just pull that little thing on the faucet to make the water come out of the showerhead. Then you do your washing and then just turn the knobs back to the off position and the water will stop.”

The man nodded. “Easy enough. Thank you.”

Barry heard the water coming on as he exited the bathroom. Hopefully the guy wouldn’t make a mess. As he walked back to the kitchen, he caught his reflection in the chrome surface of the fridge. Speaking of messes. He ran up the stairs to the other bathroom and grimaced at himself. He was covered in fine blood dots, there was dirt and small twigs in his wild, blonde hair, and he had some scratches on his cheek from Starly claws. 

He washed up best he could. Combing out the debris, cleaning his face, and then running into his room to change into a fresh pair of clothes. As he pulled on a clean shirt the image of the man transforming flashed over his eyes. Those feathers, the wings, the orange feet. He had looked exactly like a humanoid Starly. His hair had even done the curled up bit. How was that possible? What was he? 

He shook his head. He’d get his answers, hopefully, he just had to wait. He took back up his belt after pulling on new pants. Champ’s Pokéball bobbed from the motion. The Chimchar had been out of his mind with fear, even after all the Starly had been scared away, so Barry had recalled him. They had a long road ahead of them to the Championship if that’s how he acted in a fight. 

As he came down the stairs he heard the water shut off. He trotted back to the bathroom just as the door swung open. Steam billowed out and the man with it, still completely naked and leaving pools of water in his wake.

“Towel! Towel!” Barry cried, pushing the man back into the bathroom onto the bathmat. He grabbed one towel and put it around the man’s waist then took another and reached up – he sure was tall – and began drying his hair. “Did “They” not teach you how to towel dry?”

“No, he normally just dried on the way back to his cell,” he said, not resisting the treatment.

Barry’s hands stilled. He lifted the towel enough to look into the man’s eyes. “Cell? Are you a criminal?”

The man stared back, his eyes piercing. “His only crime is existing.”

Barry held his gaze a moment before continuing his drying. “Fair enough.”

Once Barry was satisfied that his guest was dry enough, he led him out and to the stairs. Before they could go up a knock sounded at the door. The man crouched, muscles tense, as if he were going to leap at the door and go straight through it. 

“Whoa, whoa.” Barry held up his hands. “Simmer down. It’s just the pizza I ordered.”

The man tilted his head. “Pizza? What is pizza?”

“You’ll find out,” Barry said as he ushered the man to the stairs. “Just go up to my room, it’s the door on your first right. I’ll be right up.”

The man glanced at the door suspiciously as the knock came again, but he complied and disappeared up the stairs. The moment he was gone, Barry ran to the kitchen and got the money, shaking his head. What had he got himself into? 

“Hey, Tina,” he greeted after opening the door and seeing the familiar delivery girl. 

“’Sup, Barry.” She lifted up the pizza box, chewing her gum noisily. “Here’s your order.” She grinned at him and waggled her brows. “I got here under half an hour. I get a bonus tip for that, right?”

Barry rolled his eyes and paid her, giving her a more than modest tip, then took the box. “Thanks.”

“Say hi to your new friend for me!” she called as he closed the door.

He groaned and rested the back of his head against the door. “Henry has a big mouth.” He grumbled about it as he took the stairs two at a time and went into his room. He found the man standing at one of his shelves attached to the wall. It’s where he kept his comics and figurines from his favorite shows. The man’s bare back was to him and he furrowed his brows as he got a good look at it.

There were two large gashes down his back, where the wings had come out. They were clean now and were… shallow for the damage the appendages must have caused. The man was right; he would heal on his own. There was something even more bizarre, though. There were what looked like several holes going down along the man’s spine, rimmed in silver. They reminded him of a headphone jack, like in his laptop. What in the world were those for?

He was brought out of his musings when the man poked at one of the figures, watching it curiously as it wobbled on its stand.

“That’s from the show, “Mighty Fist Fighters,”” Barry said, making the man whirl around.

He stared at Barry a moment before studying the figurine again. ““Mighty Fist Fighters,” shows, there are many things he does not know,” he murmured. 

“I feel the same about you.” He lifted the pizza and headed over to the bed. “Come on, first let’s get you some clothes and then we’ll talk as we eat.” He put the box down then went to his dresser. “You’re a lot taller than me, and skinnier, so these aren’t going to fit very well, but it will be something.” He handed over a pair of sweats, a t-shirt, and underwear. He had to suppress a snicker when the guy didn’t know what went on first, but eventually he got it. The sweats stopped above his ankles and the shirt billowed around his frame, but at least he was dressed.

The man made a face, pulling at the clothes. “These are… strange,” he said. 

“I know they don’t fit, but it’s what I have,” Barry said as he sat on the bed.

“It is not that. He is just not used to wearing clothes.”

Barry raised a brow. “Like, at all? You’ve never worn clothes?”

“There was never a need. They got in the way when he needed to change.”

“Okay, that tears it,” Barry said. “I’ve been patient enough. If I’m going to feed and house you, I need answers.” He put the pizza aside for the moment and motioned for the man to sit down.

“A reasonable enough request,” the man replied as he sat on the bed. “You have done more for him than he thought anyone would, so he will try to answer your questions to the best of his abilities.”

“All right, first off, I don’t think we introduced ourselves. I’m Barry.”

The man nodded. “Hello, Barry.”

He waited, but nothing was offered in return. “This is where you tell me your name.”

The man pursed his lips. “He does not have one to give.”

Barry’s face fell. “You don’t have a name?” 

“They never gave him one.”

“They didn’t call you anything?”

“Some of them called him One-o-four.” His eyes went downcast. “But he would rather not refer to that as a name.”

That perplexed Barry. “One-o-four? Like, as in, one hundred and four?” The man nodded. “So you were just a number to this “They”? Who are “Th–”, no, wait.” He waved his hands. Too many questions were trying to come out all at once. “First and foremost, what _are_ you?”

The man folded his hands in his lap and straightened his back. “In short, he is a high class experiment. A group of scientists created him to do what you saw in the woods.”

“To turn into a humanoid Starly?”

“A humanoid anything as long as it is a Pokémon,” the man corrected.

“… What?”

“He can turn into any Pokémon that he can extract DNA from, usually just by touch.” He spread his fingers. “He can only turn into a Starly now because that was the last Pokémon he touched.”

“Hoooly shiiit,” Barry cursed, leaning back on his hands. “So, you’re telling me, that there is some secret, shady group of scientists somewhere that was able to create a Pokémon-Human hybrid?”

The man held out his arms. “He sits here before you as proof.”

“Damn, that is some fucked up shit. So, what were you doing in the woods?”

“He escaped yesterday evening,” he explained. “Normally, they do not allow him to retain Pokémon DNA unless he is in training, but there was a wild Starly in the building and he was able to get his hands on it and fly out of the lab.”

“That easily? You just, flew away?” Barry asked, now leaning forward, entranced by the story.

“Not so easily,” the man said, shaking his head. “They sent a colony of Golbat after him. A lot of the staff have Golbat. He was able to fend them off, luckily he had been put through extensive aerial combat about a month ago, but it took a great deal of energy to do so and then he flew for hours on end after, which is why you found him in the state he was in.”

Barry was quiet, rubbing his chin as he tried to absorb all of the information. “So, what do you plan to do now? Now that you’re free?”

The man looked down at his lap, quiet for a long moment. “He is unsure,” he finally said. “He was led to believe that he was created in the lab. Born in a tube. Within the last few months, however, he has come to believe otherwise.”

“How so?”

“Memories,” he said simply. “Vague memories have started to form in his mind. Memories of things he had not experienced in the lab.”

“Like what?”

The man looked toward the window, his gaze distant. “Of being outside, in the sun. Playing in snow. And then…” 

He trailed off there and Barry tilted his head. “And what?”

“Someone,” he said softly. “He thinks possibly a woman. She is the fuzziest in his mind. He does not know his feelings towards her or hers to him, but she is there, in the haze.” He rubbed his forehead with the palms of his hands. “It is all so distant and no matter how much he tries to remember more he cannot. It is enough to drive him mad.”

Sympathy welled in Barry, but then it turned into horror. “So, wait, if memories are starting to surface then that means…” Now he was the one to trail off, not wanting to voice the thought that had come to him.

The man lowered his hands. “He was not born in the lab,” he finished for him.

“So, wait, wait, wait,” Barry said. “That means that you used to be a normal person and these people, like, kidnapped you or something, turned you into a blank slate, and made you into this?”

The man nodded solemnly. “Yes, he has come to believe that.”

Barry’s jaw went slack, staring at the man with wide eyes. “What fucking monsters!?” he exclaimed. He was going to go off on an entire rant, when he noticed the man giving him an odd look. “What?”

“Huh it is strange to consider,” he said. “He had been called a monster many times in the lab. He never considered _them_ to be the monsters.”

Barry was floored by that. After all the awful things they did to the man. “Well, believe me, they _are_ monsters. They took someone, who probably had a–a family, a life, and took it all away. I’ve only known you for a few hours, but you saved me from a crazy flock of Starly and haven’t ripped out my throat or anything with your crazy powers. So, the odds are definitely in your favor.”

The man was quiet, unsure how to feel.

“So, what do you plan to do?” Barry asked again.

The man tugged at his shirt. “He wants to find out who he was before he became One-o-four. What his life was like. He just _needs_ to know, if for no other reason, than to know what they took from him.”

The man had been so neutral, but now, he looked so mournful. So sad. Barry’s heart hurt just looking at him. There had to be something he could do. “I may have a friend who can help you,” he blurted out.

The man looked up from his lap, eyebrows raised. “Really?”

“It’s a big maybe,” he said quickly. “But she works for someone who is really smart and has a lot of connections. Actually, he’s the Regional Professor, so if anyone can help you, it’s him.”

The man looked at him skeptically. “Is a Professor anything like a doctor?”

Barry made a face. “Not like the kind of doctors you’re used to, I’m sure. I’ve only met him a few times, so I don’t know much about him, but my friend talks about him non-stop. Her dad has worked for him forever too, so they’ve known him for a long time.”

The man still seemed unsure. “He appreciates the thought, but he does not want to risk the chance of being locked up again.”

“Whoa, no,” Barry said, shaking his head. “Prof. Rowan wouldn’t keep you like some kind of pet. You’re a person, you have rights.” He couldn’t believe the confused look that crossed the man’s face, as if it were a new concept. It probably was. “Just talk to him. It would at least give you a starting point in finding out who you are.”

The man mulled it over. “That is true. He really has no idea where to begin.” A sigh rolled off his lips. “All right. He will go to this Prof. Rowan and ask for help.”

“Cool, I’ll make a call and see if I can set up a meeting or something.”

“All right,” the man said slowly. Then his eyes slid over to the side. “What is in that box? It is torturing sense of smell.”

“Oh, right!” Barry had completely forgotten about the pizza. “Say hello to heaven on earth.” He opened the lid, revealing the pizza marvel. “This is the Snorlax Special. It has every pizza topping you could ever imagine on it.”

The man eyed it thoughtfully. “He does not know what it is,” the man said. “But he thinks he will enjoy it.” His stomach let out a ferocious growl, agreeing with him.

“I just have one more question,” Barry said as he pulled out the paper plates that came with the pizza and got a cheesy, heart clogging slice onto it. 

“What is that?” the man asked as he graciously took the plate. 

“Why do you talk like that?”

“Talk like what?”

“Like you do. You say ‘he’ instead of ‘I’ or ‘me.’”

The man appeared baffled by this. “He had not noticed.”

Barry snorted and gestured for the man to start eating. Olives and sausage pieces rolled off onto the bed as the man lifted it up. He had to snake out his tongue to guide the point into his mouth. When it landed home, the man froze, eyes going wide. Then his face melted, eyes rolling back, as pure pleasure washed over him. It was the reaction the Snorlax Special always had for newbie’s. Then the whole piece disappeared into his mouth.

“Dude, chew!”


	3. Back to the Lab

Barry plodded down the stairs alone, leaving the man in his room after introducing him to television. He was currently sitting on Barry’s bed, cross legged, staring at the flickering screen in amazement as he flipped through channels. Barry thought that was the perfect time to make his phone call. 

He dashed into the kitchen, grabbing the home phone off its charger. He dialed and paced about as it rang in his ear. He pulled open the fridge when he went by it, just to occupy himself. A grumble of resentment came from his stomach, reminding him he had only had two slices of the whole pizza. The man had eaten half of it in record time, leaving Barry scrambling for the pieces he could get his hands on. He’d have to take the man to Bojo’s Steakhouse in Sandgem Town and do that steak challenge. The guy would win it three times over. 

“Hello?”

The female voice on the other end jolted him out of his thoughts. “O–Oh, hey, Dawn.”

“Hey, Barry,” she said. “What are you doing calling me this late?”

He glanced at the stove clock. It was much later than he intended to call. A quick peek out the window confirmed it when it was completely dark. “Sorry, is this a bad time?”

“No, no,” she assured. “I was just getting done organizing some of Dad’s files. Prof. Rowan got a _lot_ of information that needs to be cataloged after his last excursion to Johto.”

“Oh, yeah, yeah, sooo.” Barry drew out the last word a little longer than he should have. 

“Sooo,” Dawn echoed in a sing-song way. “I’m guessing this isn’t just a friendly ‘How’s it going?’ phone call, but a ‘I need a favor,’ phone call.”

“Am I that transparent?”

Dawn chuckled. “Most of the time. So, what’s up?”

Barry ran his fingers through his hair. “Look, this isn’t going to be a normal favor, or a little one. It’s going to be pretty massive.”

She was silent for a moment. “Okay, now I’m intrigued.”

He sighed, going to the doorway and looking up the stairs. “I had something really… weird happen today. I found a guy out in the woods.”

“You _found_ a guy?”

“Yeah, in really rough shape. Like, I thought he was dead.”

“He’s not, I’m guessing.”

“Nope, fit as a fiddle now and currently hogging my bed.” He wandered back into the kitchen and leaned against the counter. “Here’s where the favor comes in. This guy is not normal and he needs help. Help I think only Prof. Rowan can give him.”

“Wait, back up there, Barry,” Dawn said. “What do you mean this guy isn’t normal?”

Barry worried his lip, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “You’re not going to believe me.”

“Try me.”

“All right, you asked for it. He’s an escaped science experiment, made by some crazy mad scientists, with the ability to take Pokémon DNA and turn into a freaky hybrid of that Pokémon.”

There was a long pause after that. He swore he could cut her disbelief with a knife. 

“Have you been taking more of those hallucinogenic mushrooms from Johnny again? You promised me you weren’t going to do that anymore.”

“What? No! I did that one time, will you let it go?” He sighed, reeling back in his thoughts so he could reproduce them cohesively. “Dawn, I know this sounds crazy, but I’m being serious. I saw him grow feathers and sprout wings. He was like a big man-Starly!”

“You are going a long way to play some sort of prank on me,” Dawn said with a chuckle. “How did you think I’d ever fall for a story like that?”

Barry sighed, but then an idea flashed. “Exactly!” he exclaimed. “You know that I know that you’d never fall for a made up story like that, so it must be true!”

There was silence on the other end.

“Dawn, come on,” he pleaded. “Do you really think I’d ask you to get me a meeting with Prof. Rowan as a joke? I would never jeopardize your job like that. As crazy as this story sounds, I hope you’d know that to be true.”

Dawn groaned. “Damn it, Barry, stop being such an honest dope. Okay, let’s say that your story is true, and you’re housing some kind of man who can turn into a human-Pokémon _thing_. What exactly is Prof. Rowan supposed to do about it?”

“Help him,” Barry said. “He used to be a regular person. They took his memories and turned him into what he is. All he wants is to find out who he used to be. He has no idea where to start. I think Prof. Rowan is the only one with the resources that can help give him some kind of answers, or an idea where to go from here.”

“Dang, Barry.” Dawn’s voice was low, as if amazed. “Okay, I don’t think even you could sound that convincing when trying to pull off a prank. As unbelievable as this all sounds, I’ll see what I can do.”

“Wha – really!?” Barry almost started jumping in victory right there in the kitchen. “You’ll really do that?”

“Yeah, even though it may get me locked up in the looney-bin,” she replied. “The hard part is going to be convincing Dad that you’re being serious, and getting Prof. Rowan’s nose out of his research long enough to believe both of us.”

“I’m sure you can charm them,” he said with a laugh.

“You better hope for both our sakes. I’ll call you in the morning since I’m sure that’s going to be how long it’s going to take me to get a yay or a nay.”

“You’re the best, Dawn. Seriously.”

“Just don’t forget, you owe me big for this.”

“I’m sure you’ll never let me forget it.”

They both hung up and Barry was practically buzzing with his success. He raced back up the stairs to tell his guest the good news.

***********************************************************

The subject waited till he heard Barry’s feet reach the bottom of the stairs before he got up from the bed. He glanced at the curious box that showed things other than vitals and statistics then went to the window. He eased it open and stuck his head out. He was on the second floor, but that kind of jump would be no problem for him.

He looked over his shoulder at the door, barely making out the young man talking to someone. It must have been the friend he had mentioned. It was strange, but he felt torn on his next action. His instincts told him to flee. He had already escaped one prison, and now the young man was asking him to go to another lab, where they could easily lock him up, too.

_“Prof. Rowan wouldn’t keep you like some kind of pet. You’re a person, you have rights.”_

He still couldn’t fathom that anyone would care about his wishes. Barry seemed to, though. He had done nothing but try to help the subject. Fed him, clothed him, whatever was possible to give him comforts. The subject had never known anything like that. The scientists and the Doctor had never cared for how he felt, or if he would enjoy something. Maybe Barry wasn’t an exception and people outside of the lab were as nice as him. Maybe his friends _could_ help. 

Every fiber of his being told him to jump. Instead, he lifted his shaking hands to the window and slid it closed. He trotted back to the bed as Barry’s thunderous footsteps came back up the stairs. 

The people he would meet would have no idea how to handle him. So, if things went wrong, he could easily escape.

Right?

***********************************************************

Barry was snoring peacefully when a ringing drilled into his brain, forcing him to wake up. He grumbled and tried to curl under his blankets more to drown it out. Then his memory clicked on, reminding him why someone would be calling so early. The blankets went flying as he lunged for the phone on his nightstand. His fingers curled around it, but he had outstretched himself and went tumbling over the side of the bed, landing on his shoulders with his legs in the air.

“Are you all right?”

The man was sitting up from his piles of blankets, Barry had offered the bed last night, but he had refused. His head was tilted as he looked at Barry curiously.

“Fine, fine,” he muttered as he answered the phone and put it against his ear. “Hello?”

“It’s about time,” Dawn’s voice said irritably. “I was about to hang up.”

“Sorry about that. I was super asleep,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “So, what happened?”

Her chuckle tickled his ear. “You better get dressed. You have a meeting to get to.”

***********************************************************

“I know those shoes were a bit small, but are you sure you shouldn’t have worn them anyway? It’s a bit of a walk to Sandgem Town,” Barry said, looking down at the man’s bare feet crunching through the light snow that covered the ground.

“They hurt his feet,” the man retorted. “This is much preferable.”

“Suit yourself. At least I had an extra jacket.” The sleeves were short on the man’s long arms, but at least it’d keep his torso warm. He had also given the other a scarf, but it was wadded up in the pocket of the borrowed jacket. The man said it felt like it was strangling him and he didn’t like it. “We’re going to have to take you shopping to get clothes that actually fit.”

The man sighed dejectedly at that.

“Don’t give me that,” Barry told him, hearing the complaints before. “You need to wear clothes. You’ll stick out a lot more if you’re running around naked.”

“It is inconvenient and restrictive,” the man grumbled.

“Too bad for you.”

They walked on in silence for a few minutes.

“May he have another one of those doughnuts?” the man said, his gaze sliding to the paper bag in Barry’s hand. 

Barry shifted it in his grip, holding it protectively like the man was going to rip it out of his hands. “I suppose, it’s been at least ten minutes since you’re last one. Eat it slowly this time.” The bag crinkled as dug in and passed a maple bar over to the man, whose eyes practically sparkled as he took it. He definitely liked pizza and doughnuts. “But that’s your last one. Remember, I have to save some of these for Dawn for helping us out.”

The man mumbled something unintelligible as he took a bite and tried to chew delicately.

Jealousy sparked through Barry. “Though, I get one last one, too,” he said, pulling a cinnamon twist out and going into euphoria with the man.

A half hour passed by before the forms of buildings appeared before their view. 

The man’s eyes roamed over it as they approached. “This does not seem much bigger than your town.”

“It’s a fair amount bigger. It actually has more than a couple selections of restaurants and things to do,” Barry replied. “And the lab is right along the edge of it.” His brow quirked when he noticed the man’s shoulders curl in, his expression going dark. “Uh, touchy word I guess, huh?”

“After he escaped, he swore he would never enter another lab,” he murmured sullenly.

Barry frowned and immediately felt bad. “Hey, this kind of lab is not going to be anything like _that_ lab, okay? I know you’ve been through a tough time, but you’ll see. These are nice people. I swear you’ll like them.”

The man glanced at him out of the corner of his eye and nodded minutely. “He will trust you are telling the truth. He hopes you are, at least.”

They left it at that and soon came to a large building. It was not grandiose, but simple in its structure. Hopefully less intimidating to the man. Standing outside was a young woman in a thick red jacket, straight black hair poured out from her white beanie. She gave a start when she saw them approach and ran towards them.

“Barry, there you are!” She had a wide smile as she approached, but it slowly faded and she came to a stop as she took sight of the man. “Oh, you must be the person he was talking about.” She was hesitant, but took in a deep breath and stuck out her gloved hand. “I’m Dawn Hawkins. It’s nice to meet you.”

The man stared at her hand curiously before turning to Barry for help. 

“Shake it,” he whispered. “It’s a type of greeting.”

The man took her hand and gave it a brief shake. “It is also nice to meet you. He is sorry he does not have a name to give in return.”

She gave Barry a quizzical look as they released hands. 

“Yeah, he doesn’t have one. We’ll have to work around that.”

“Um, okay.” She pointed to the glass door. “Everyone is waiting inside. Come on.” She stepped up to the door and it slid open automatically, then disappeared inside.

“After you,” Barry said, sweeping his arm towards the doorway.

The man swallowed thickly before following the girl, Barry on his heels. Barry had been in the lab a few times, just a few days ago, in fact, to get Champ. It was mostly bookshelves crammed with science texts everywhere, with some scientific equipment here and there. It wasn’t devoid of life, though. Assistants bustled around, doing this task or that.

Barry noticed the man eye the assistants in their white lab coats, and instantly tense. His muscles were coiled, getting ready to spring off any second. Barry quickly came up beside him and put a hand on his back. “You’re fine. Everything is okay. Nothing bad is going to happen to you. I promise.”

“A promise is a vow, correct?” the man asked, his voice low. 

“Um, yeah.”

“He will hold you to it then.”

They followed Dawn to the back of the lab and through another door. Barry knew it was Prof. Rowan’s personal work area. There was more of the same here, except two men waiting by a desk, talking over some notes. Both were quite familiar to Barry. One was Prof. Rowan himself, with his signature white hair, his equally white, bushy mustache that seemed to have a mind of its own, and his stern look. The other one was a tall man with thick glasses, short black hair that stuck up wherever it pleased, and a crooked nose from a previous injury that had broken it. 

“Prof. Rowan, Da – I mean, Dr. Hawkins, here’s Barry and the man he was talking about,” Dawn introduced as they entered. “Um, he doesn’t have a name.”

The two men looked up, Prof. Rowan setting down the folders as he came around the desk. “Ah, young Barry. Good to see you again. How is that Chimchar?”

Barry gave a sheepish smile, remembering the state Champ had been in last he was out. “Oh, he’s doing great. We’re getting along really well.”

Prof. Rowan nodded before turning his attention to the man. “So, you’re the one Dawn was telling me about. I must admit, with the story she repeated from Barry, my curiosity was more than piqued. I still hold a certain amount of skepticism, but I am always willing to be proven wrong.”

The man held Prof. Rowan’s gaze, which was hard for most people, since the older man could be quite intimidating. Barry could hardly keep eye contact for more than a few seconds. The man, however, never wavered.

“He supposes that will have to happen today,” he said, voice flat. “He just hopes you will provide the help Barry told him you can.”

Their eyes held each other for a long, uncomfortable moment, until the Professor’s mustache twitched as his mouth curled into a smile underneath it. “Well, let us all get comfortable before we begin, shall we?” He led the accompanying party into an adjacent room. It was similar, in that it had equipment and books all around, but it also contained a wooden table, and a kitchenette, equipped with a toaster oven and coffeepot, gurgling with a fresh brew. 

The coffee was poured into mugs and one given to each. Barry nearly had a laughing fit at the face the man pulled with the first sip, and then showed him how to add cream and sugar until it was to his liking. All the while, Barry did not miss Prof. Rowan studying them both over the rim of his cup, like they were specimens. It made sweat trail down his temple. 

After everyone had settled, Barry was urged to tell his story, which he spun eagerly. The calm morning that led to his discovery of the man and how he witnessed his transformation. The rest, dragging the man home and taking care of him, was rushed through, not being of much note. After he was done, almost all eyes simultaneously turned to the man. 

He sat up straighter. “Are there any specifics you would like from him?” he asked, clearly not knowing where to start. 

“Well, I guess we should start with some basics. Do you have any information on the people that created you that you could give us? Anything for us to find out who they are? If we know that, it may help us find out who you are,” Prof. Rowan said. He made a motion to Dr. Hawkins, who instantly got out a paper tablet and a pen, poised and ready to take notes.

The man’s brows furrowed as he thought. “They did not allow him to know much,” he finally answered. “Only first names were used amongst all the scientists, guards, and other workers, so he cannot give you much on them. And they made sure not to give any sort of name to the man in charge. He was only ever referred to as the Doctor.”

Prof. Rowan “Hmm’d” deep in his throat, nodding. “Anything on the lab’s location?”

The man shook his head. “He knows nothing about the Region. Cities, landmarks, any of that he was never taught. After they deemed him ready to go out they were most likely going to teach him the Region in full.”

The two older men shared a glance. “Ready to go out and do _what_?” Dr. Hawkins asked tentatively.

The man shrugged. “He is not sure. The purpose to his creation was never revealed to him. All they ever said is that they were preparing him for the Doctor’s goal. That is it.”

“That’s disconcerting,” Prof. Rowan murmured, shifting in his chair to lean forward. “Do you know how long you have been “alive” so to speak? How long it’s been since they made you into the person you are now?”

“About five years, nine months, two weeks, and three days,” he answered, making all of them give a start.

“Uh, that’s oddly specific for not knowing all that other stuff,” Barry said, scratching the back of his head.

“No matter what he had to do in a day,” the man replied. “Whether it was training, testing, medical checkups, or anything else, we had to cross the center of the building, where the front desk is. The receptionist is fond of having small calendars on her desk. The kind you pull the old day off everyday. Her calendar this year was a theme of Alola Pokémon in hats.”

They all stared at him in stunned silence.

“Sooo,” Dawn started, lengthening the word with uncertainty. “You kept track of how long you were captive by looking at these calendars when you’d walk by?” He nodded. “And you were able to remember the exact date you started?”

“They designed him with an impeccable memory,” he answered. “It is the only way he can efficiently use the powers he picks up from different Pokémon. He had to learn every little detail about them.”

“Okay, let’s move onto that,” Prof. Rowan said. “So, from what you have said, and what Barry says he witnessed, you can change into any Pokémon from the simple act of touching them?” 

The man nodded. “Just a touch of his fingertips is all he needs to extract the DNA in order for the change to happen.”

Dr. Hawkins looked up from the tablet he had been furiously scribbling on. “Can you only hold one set of DNA at a time?”

“No,” the man replied. “He can hold up to six strands within his body and shift between them at will.”

“Whoa,” Barry breathed, but had a curious thought. “Huh, just like how many Pokémon a trainer is allowed to carry. Weird.”

“Forgive me,” Prof. Rowan said. “You and Barry’s tale is enthralling, but I fear they won’t be solidified for me unless…” His words hung in the air, as if possibly realizing a moment too late that what he was going to ask was overstepping a line.

“You want a demonstration,” the man finished for him. It wasn’t a question.

“You have to understand,” the Professor said, fingernails combing through his mustache. “What you speak of has only been thought about in-in science fiction novels. The mere idea of combining a human with a Pokémon and have it be successful?” He sat back in his seat, as if weighed down by the thought. “It is astounding.”

The man’s face did not twitch, but Barry’s feelings on the matter curdled. “Not really astounding with how they came about it,” he growled. “They tortured him, forced his body into something it was never supposed to be and took his whole life away. What’s to be so amazed by that?”

Dawn wore an expression of horror, Dr. Hawkins was sheepish, but Prof. Rowan’s face was as impassive as the man’s.

“Yes, the circumstances are terrible,” he said, his voice gruff. “The fact that someone would do that to another human being is beyond unthinkable, but it has happened. If we are going to help him, we need to understand him first. Understand what they’ve done, to maybe discern to the purpose of _why_ they’ve done this.”

Barry sighed through his nose, crossing his arms as he sat back. He supposed that was reason enough, but he still didn’t like admiring monsters for doing such an unthinkable thing.

“He will change for you.”

All eyes went back to the man again, his eyes ever unwavering on Prof. Rowan’s face.

“He understands that these are strange circumstances and something to be questioned and held to skepticism. If having understanding will make it easier for you to help him, then he will do it.”

Prof. Rowan nodded. “Thank you.”

“Um, by the way,” Barry piped up. “It gets a little messy, so be prepared for that.”

“Messy?” Dr. Hawkins echoed, brows furrowing.

“There’s a bit of blood when the wings come out,” Barry explained, making a spraying noise by pushing air through his teeth and flaring his fingers as if something were going everywhere. 

When the confused looks from the others didn’t alleviate, the man decided to elaborate. “The process of growing limbs and such that he does not have normally can be a bit of a… traumatic process for his body. It is much better than it used to be, but it can still be a bit “Messy” as Barry called it. The only DNA he has within him, right now, is a Starly, so the wings can be an issue.”

“Well, what if we gave you a different Pokémon to turn into?” Dawn asked. “We have many Pokémon here that don’t have, you know, extra appendages.”

“What about Champ?” Barry suggested. “He doesn’t have any extra limbs or anything and he’s pretty human shaped.”

“If you are all right with it, that should be a fine choice,” Prof. Rowan said with a nod. 

Barry took the Pokéball from his belt, staring down at its shiny surface for a moment. Champ had spent all night and morning in his Pokéball, he was probably dying to stretch out his legs. With a tap of the center button, the ball popped open and light spilled out onto the table. It formed into his Chimchar, who yawned widely and stretched his arms above his head. He blinked sleepily, but perked at the sight of Barry, giving an excited hoot. Then his eyes slid over to the man. 

There was an explosion of movement, coffee cups going flying, splashing their contents everywhere, and cries of alarm sounded as Champ scrambled frantically away from the man. Dawn screamed as he jumped onto her head, leaping off the next second onto the counter, making more mugs, sugar packets, and spoons crash to the floor.

“Recall him!” Prof. Rowan bellowed over the chaos.

The Pokéball slipped and bounced in Barry’s fumbling hands before he could get a hold of it and point it at his starter. Champ disappeared in a flash of red, and the following silence was deafening.

“What in the world was that about?” Dr. Hawkins finally asked. His hands were shaking as he went to retrieve paper towels and began sopping up the spilt coffee that had splattered everywhere. Dawn righted her beanie, blinking repeatedly in shock, but pulled herself together to help her father.

“I–I don’t know why he reacted like that,” Barry stammered, staring down at the Pokéball in dismay. “I thought he would have calmed down from the Starly flock by now.”

“He must apologize,” the man said, making Barry look to him in confusion. “He is the reason your Chimchar was so afraid.”

“Wha–What are you talking about?”

“Yes, can you please explain?” Prof. Rowan urged, handing some of the turned over mugs to Dawn.

The man sighed. “Pokémon are… uncomfortable around him. His presence makes them wary, in Barry’s Chimchar’s case, and the Starly in the woods, frightened.”

“But why?” Barry demanded.

“Pokémon know that he is _different_. He is not human and he is not Pokémon. They do not know what he is and it sets off their instincts in one way or another. The Pokémon in the lab had to be trained for several months to not run from or attack him, let alone let him touch them.”

“Holy shit,” Barry murmured.

“Holy shit, indeed, Barry,” Prof. Rowan said, getting shocked looks from both of his assistants. “That does pose a problem, but one I think we can work around.” He turned to Dr. Hawkins. “Dillon Sawyer hasn’t picked up his starter yet, correct?”

Dr. Hawkins pushed his glasses up his nose after shaking his head. “No, he’s supposed to be stopping in after he gets off work at the local mart to get him.”

“Good, go fetch his Pokémon, will you?”

“Sir?”

“You heard me,” the Professor just about snapped, shooing the man away.

Dr. Hawkins hurried back into Prof. Rowan’s main office, coming back before Barry and the man could exchange baffled looks. “Are you sure about this, Professor?” Dawn’s father asked as he handed the older man a Pokéball. 

“Yes. This may be the only Pokémon we have on hand that can’t run off and cause damage like Barry’s Chimchar. I’d suggest Dawn’s Piplup, but I fear even it would hurt itself falling off the table, trying to get away, or we’d all get a face full of bubbles.”

Barry saw Dawn give a start and her hand unconsciously hover over her coat pocket. 

“No other disagreements?” Prof. Rowan asked. When no one said anything he held out the ball. “All right then.” He clicked the center button with his thumb and it opened. The same light shot out like from Barry’s, but this time it solidified into something else. 

A small, green turtle stood on the table. Its feet were yellow, along with its chin and it had a brown shell with a black strip going horizontally across the middle and rimmed the edge. The plant sprout coming from its head waved as it yawned, blinking lazily as it took its surroundings. When it spotted the man, it visibly jolted before pulling into its shell with lightening speed, which was pretty impressive for a Turtwig. 

Prof. Rowan chuckled as the shell clattered and wobbled against the wooden surface of the table. “That’s what I was hoping would happen. Now he should be very easy to touch.”

The man nodded as he stood and began taking off his jacket.

“Um, Dude, what are you doing?” Barry asked as he then started removing his shirt.

“He told you. Clothes get in the way of the change.”

Barry grabbed the man’s arm when he reached for his sweats. “Uh, there’s a girl present.”

The man looked to Dawn, who had turned beet red. Her father didn’t look pleased either.

“That matters?” the man asked Barry sincerely. “There were many women scientists at the lab. They never gave complaints about his lack of clothes.”

“You can step out, Dawn,” Dr. Hawkins said, but it sounded more like a plea.

She cleared her throat and shook her head. “And miss one of the greatest events in the field of science? No, I’ll be fine.” She straightened her back as she spoke and tried to look as professional as possible.

“Well, I guess that’s your cue to continue,” Prof. Rowan said, a note of finality in his voice that was more for Dr. Hawkins than anyone else.

The man stripped the rest of the clothes off, standing nude before them all, without a hint of embarrassment. Barry was sure he’d die if he had to do that. The man reached out his hand and stroked the Turtwig’s shell, causing it to shudder under his touch. 

“That’s all you need?” Prof. Rowan asked, sounding almost breathless.

“Yes, no more than that,” the man replied. “Would you like him to change now?” After a nod of confirmation, the man closed his eyes. It was as if a ripple went over him and Dawn gasped as his skin began to turn a light green. Yellow spread through his fingers, toes, and under his chin. His back curved slightly and it was as if soil started coming from the pores along his spine, building and solidifying until a perfect shell went from the base of his neck to over his rear, just like a Turtwig’s.

The amazement broke for Barry and he laughed. “Oh man, you get the head sprout and everything,” he snickered, flicking at the leafy appendage that had unfurled from the man’s now brown hair. “Was that easier on you?” he asked, not seeing any blood or anything.

“Much. Still some discomfort, but better than most changing’s,” the man replied. His speech was a little difficult given that his upper lip had elongated and grew slightly below his lower, like the beak his Pokémon counterpart had.

Barry looked to the other three, to see them all having gone pale, jaws hanging open and ready for a bug Pokémon to crawl inside. “Believe us now?” he asked haughtily.

The Professor seemed to shake out of his shock, looking at the man with new awe and respect. “Yes, we must find out how they were able to do this, who you were, and why you were chosen for this.

“Immediately.”


End file.
